


the light that guides you home

by NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable



Series: Jones Family Collection [7]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 19:38:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8070085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable/pseuds/NothingImpossibleOnlyImprobable
Summary: Killian, Emma, and Henry find something in the woods.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this ficlet](https://mahstatins.tumblr.com/post/150589672456/where-the-light-wont-find-you) that just about destroyed my ability to human today, thanks @mahstatins and your increasingly painful headcanons regarding my favourite character we haven’t met yet.
> 
> Unedited, written half on mobile I was so desperate to get it out, so all mistakes are definitely mine.

“Mom! Mom!” Henry called, rushing into the station.  “Mom, you gotta see this!”

Emma sighed softly.  She was behind on nearly everything, the pile of paperwork from their time in Camelot and the Underworld near toppling, not to mention the crazed Evil Queen and recently-split less-than-pleasant half of Jekyll and Hyde causing all kinds of damage in the town. 

“What’s up?” she said anyway, looking up at the panting teen leaning over her desk, an excited gleam in his eye. 

“Something I found,” he grinned, still catching his breath.  “In the woods.  You need to come see, Mom.”

Killian stood from behind the mountain of paperwork he'd offered to help sort.  “I'll come with you, lad,” he said, glancing quickly at Emma.  “Your mum's got a lot on her plate now.”

Emma flashed him a grateful smile, but pushed back her chair anyway.  Killian knew how much everything from the last months weighed on her, he'd listened to her ranting late at night when they both couldn't sleep, held her when words weren't enough, stroked her hair and kissed her forehead and was there for her in a way no one ever had.  Saving the town, saving everyone she cared about, it seemed to pull out pieces of her each time.  But Henry was her son, and if anyone deserved her time, it was him. 

“I'll come too, kid,” she said, pulling on her jacket.  “Swords, guns, or magic?”

Henry shrugged.  “No idea, maybe none?”

She tucked her pistol into the small holster at her side regardless, watched as Killian strapped his blade across his hips, then mustered the best smile she could.  “Lead the way.”

Henry took them out to the woods behind the park, past the lake, almost to the magic well, until they found themselves in a stretch of forest Emma had never seen before. 

“How’d you find this place?” she asked, stepping over a twisted tree root jutting up from the leaf-strewn ground.  Killian offered his arm, and she took it with a small nod, leaning on him a little as they climbed up the slight incline, the root steps cut through the forest floor.  She almost missed the way Henry's cheeks reddened just slightly, ducking his head to turn back to the faint trace of path through the brush.

“Just exploring,” he mumbled quietly. 

“Does this have anything to do with the lovely Violet?” Killian asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.  She squeezed his arm, and he turned to wink before helping her over the fallen log across the ground.

“It's just over here,” Henry said instead.  He surged ahead, the trees opening into a small clearing filled with soft grass and multicoloured wildflowers, the smell of them sweet and something Emma could nearly taste as they stepped onto the grass.

In the centre of the clearing lay a long wooden case, looking almost like a lifeboat, wrapped in the flowers of the meadow, ropes she immediately recognised as shipping lines wrapped around the lower half. There was a shimmering, almost completely translucent covering over it, the swirling patterns rippling over it reminding her so much of the ocean waves.

“What the hell is that?” she heard Killian mutter beside her.  Together, they stepped closer, until she could clearly make out the image of  _ someone _ lying inside it, a woman, by the look of it, her dark hair long and laid out over her pale blue dress.

“No idea,” Henry shrugged, leaning over the coffin - there was no doubt that’s what this was.  “I just found it, I didn’t want to touch it until I had backup.”

“Good plan,” she mumbled, trying to peer past the rippling blues over the cover and get a better look.  Killian had a hand out, rubbing gently on the shimmering “cover”, as if his touch could clear the waves, when he suddenly stopped, his breath caught in his throat as he went completely still, locked in place, his eyes wide, only his throat working hard as he swallowed.

“Killian?” she asked gently, her hand on his arm.  He took half a step forward, then back, as if he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to rush closer or run away, but he didn’t do either.  His face was a mask, frozen in place, and she wasn’t even sure he was breathing.  Emma started to feel the familiar twist of fear in her gut, wondering what this could, what next, what else he should have to suffer through after the months of agony they’d just been through.

She tried again.  “Killian, what is it?”

He blinked, once, then again, shook his head a little as if to physically clear it, and coughed out a breath.  Slowly, so slowly, he turned to her, his eyes wide and swirling with emotion, mirroring the waves playing out on the coffin’s lid.

“It’s… it’s my mum,” he whispered.

She was  _ definitely _ not expecting that.

“Are you- are you sure?” she asked quietly, her hand still holding tightly to his arm.  “How is she here?  Why?  Where has she been all this time?”

Killian shook his head slowly.  “I… honestly, love, I’ve no clue.  She… left, I suppose, when we were young, Liam and I, and we were certain she… died.  It’s been  _ centuries _ , Emma.  How could she possibly-”

A crashing sound broke them from their conversation.  They whirled back around, looked in shock at Henry, who’d managed to shove off the lid of the box, the whirling patterns still circulating over it as it rested atop the grass and flowers.  The woman - Killian’s  _ mother _ ? - lay still inside the box, just as motionless as he’d been just moments before.  She was beautiful, breathtakingly so, her hair as black as his, the simple blue dress she wore tied with a length of braided gold that looked almost like the rope that wound around the coffin.  Her face looked so much like Killian’s, but softer, gentler, and she suddenly wished she could see this woman smile, wondered if her eyes crinkled at the edges like his, wondered if her lips held the subtle edges of secrets behind them, of truths known and loves treasured as his did.

“You should wake her up,” Henry said, and Emma had to shake herself to remember where she was.  He was grinning wildly, looking at Killian who looked like he still hadn’t processed what was going on, that she was here, in the woods, when she should have been dead lifetimes ago.

“Wake her up-  you mean….”  Emma raised an eyebrow, something Killian had been delighted to see her copy from him, and she glanced quickly to Killian.

“You’re her son, right, Killian?” Henry shrugged.  “Isn’t that how families work?”

Killian shook his head quickly, took a step back, his hand raised as he looked like he was going to bolt from the woods and never stop running if she gave him the chance.  “I can’t,” he murmured quietly.  “I can’t do this, I can’t wake her.”

Emma reached out, grabbed his hand and held it tightly in both of hers, standing herself firmly between him and the woman he once called Mother.  Or did he call her Mama?  Questions she’d always wanted to ask, always wanted to know about him as a child, rushed through her head, but she chased them away.   _ Not now _ , she thought.

“Hey,” she said quietly, her fingers stroking his hand.  He glanced at her, his eyes wild, fearful, but something else, something she was startled to realise she recognised all too well, before he turned away, looking down intently at their clasped hands.  “It’s okay.  You can do this, Killian.”

“I can’t,” he whispered, not meeting her eyes.  “The things I’ve done, the man I’ve become, she wouldn’t-”

“She would,” Emma said firmly, squeezing his hand.  “She would be proud to call you her son, Killian.  She would be proud of the man you are today, regardless of the journey it took to get here.”  She squeezed again, touching his chin with one finger, guiding his face to hers.  His eyes shone suspiciously brightly, and she smiled.  “She would.”

A pause, and then he nodded, just once, swallowing hard as he gripped her hand in his.  “All right.”

She moved to the side, giving his hand one last reassuring squeeze before letting go and giving him space.  His shoulders slumped, his gaze locked on the woman in the coffin, and she hoped…  A hand slipped into hers, and for a second she started, only realising it was Henry when she whipped her head around.  But he was smiling, his hand firm in hers, and she remembered, remembered the despair, the loss, the love, then the kiss, and the magic, and the way her heart had started beating only once he had drawn that first breath in the hospital not so long ago.

_ She would _ , Emma knew.

Emma watched as Killian took a shaky breath and stepped forward, resting hand and hook on the edge of the carved wood, before bending over, gently, tenderly placing his lips to his mother’s forehead and-

The blast of magic ripped through the quiet meadow, sending a shower of light and colour and the scent of wildflowers through Emma.  Henry was nearly  _ vibrating _ with excitement, and she and him both moved closer, peered inside, her left hand reaching for Killian’s on the wood, the woman so still, so quiet.

Until she opened her eyes, hers a brilliant blue - just like the sky, just like the sea, just like Killian’s - and Emma smiled, holding tightly to her True Loves both.

“Mama?”


End file.
